Saint John
by Bond John bond
Summary: In his previous life, Johnny was a social recluse, but not by choice. After living his life miserable day after miserable day, he wakes up to find himself in a world he has no knowledge of, surrounded by chained people he's never seen. This is the story of how little johnny, previously known for absllutely nothing, became known as one of the srongest admirals in existence.
1. Preview- Saint John the Recluse

When asked to describe John, his classmates would usually stutter for a second or two before sheepishly asking who John was. Yep, he wasn't memorable at all. He was the last kid picked in gym class, that one kid always forgotten in the class register, the one to pair up with the teacher, he was the one that was always forgotten. But don't get me wrong, he didn't mind, we at least not at first. As he grew up, little John eventually noticed something, something that should be so obvious (at least when considering how john had no friends) that our dear readers must be facepalming as they read this. He noticed that he didn't have any pictures to send for his graduation video. That was when he realized just how lonesome he was. The student council had called for a class meeting, and so he followed the flow, arriving at the classroom, and unlike so many of his peers, he immediately noticed the screen and projector at the back. The Class President, a real arrogant dude, smirked and pointed towards he back in a dramatic fashion.

"Listen up peeps", he said "In one week, we graduate, and must of us won't see each other in a long time. Taking this into account, I asked the WhatsApp group chat to send pictures and i compiled them into this video, so now, enjoy."

It was then when our little protagonist came upon an epiphany that showed him just how socially stunted he was. He'd been in the school for 6 years, hell, he'd been in the school for longer than the President, yet he wasn't in the class WhatsApp group. This brought down his mood a bit, but well, it was only a little thing, he could live through it. And so, with this mindset, he sat along his peers, waiting for the summary of his 6 years in school to be displayed on the white sheet. The President shut off the lights, tapped some stuff onto his computer, and thus began the tear-wrenching, touching, and sentimental experience John and his classmates would remember for the rest of their lives. You see, while his peers reminisced on their experiences for the past years, laughing, teasing their friends, and crying with one another as they watched their memories fleeted through the screen, our little john was shedding few tears by himself. As he saw picture after picture, he recognized some people that had left around 5 years ago, he saw the same faces show up tens of times in different scenarios, hell, even the president, an arrogant little suck-up who no one liked, had appeared more than 4 times in the 10-minute video. But he hadn't appeared once. Not a single time was his face in any of the photos or videos. Even Susan was there, and Susan had left the school before he had even come. It was at that moment that John realized that in the lives of those who should've been his friends, he was a mere blip, a tiny inconvenience they would forget the moment he left their sight. It wasn't for a lack of tying that he had no friends. He had tried to invite every single one of his classmates at least 3 times to do something, t do anything to fill up his endlessly empty schedule, to try and turn the lies he was telling his mom about having friends into truths. Yes, John lived a sad, lonely life, where his only solace was his loving mother. Yet that was soon taken away from him, and not in a pleasant, natural death kind of way, no, she was brutally wretched from his life, she was shoved into the hands of the grim reaper way to early by a deranged psychopath who set out one night to prove to the world that he too was as cool as those idolized rule breakers on the tv shows, that he too could break the rules.

Thus, little Johnny was left all alone, and hats how he lived his life, in solitude, each day bleaker, and grayer than the last, each day, he'd wake up sadder than the day before, he'd walk to his boring job as a lift operator, force a smile onto his lips and try to liven up his lifeless eyes. Each day he would open his eyes and see his tattered ceiling, the cement dusty and crumbling. Each day, after opening his eyes, he'd begrudgingly wish for some change, any change in his drab, miserable lifestyle. Each day he'd open his eyes, living on, despite all of the above. Until one day, on the morning, his eyes didn't open, and they remained closed for 2 weeks until a neighbor complained about a weird smell, and they found his body on his bed, as lifeless as his eyes used to be. Now, you may be wondering why I'm writing about poor little Johnny, a man with no one to invite for his funeral, when I could be writing about someone way cooler or more social, like Susan, who turned out to be a supermodel, well dear readers, That's because when Johnny opened his eyes again after seemingly having died, he became the badest motherf*cker his new world ever new, so gather around kids, because this is the story of Saint John, and how he became to be the Biggest Baddest Admiral the 6 sees ever new. So grab your popcorn or whatever, because Boy Oh Boy, this storie's a good one.

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I've never written anything so go ahead and judge all you want, and I'll try to modify whatever based on the comments. My 't' on the keyboard is a little loose, so mistakes are bound to prop up, ill appreciate any feedback. You can kind of tell from the last paragraph i won't be following the typical OC/SI story line, where he joins the strawhats, but I might dabble on it a bit, see how it goes. Anyways, I know its not much to go on,but this is just to show my writting style and sort of like a preview/backstory for the main story line and hopefully you guys like it. I will pair him later on, might be a canon character or not, I'll see later on. Fuerthermore, he first couple of chapters will be giving him some sort of tragic backsory, because well, lets face it, in One Piece, you're not a good guy unless you got some sort of sad backstory. Enjoy, please review, even if is bad, and i'll try to change, thanks for your support.

Bond, John Bond, signing off


	2. Chaper 1- Slavery

**I do not own one piece; all rights go to Oda. I do own little Johnny though**

The first thing Johnny saw when he opened his eyes was white. Not a soft, calming white, but rather a piercing white, that stabbed through his eyes onto his brain, destroying any semblance of thought he may have had. Then, he heard the voices. At first, they were distant, muffled, but soon they became more and more distinct, each word breaking, shattering, his white world. As his eyes began to focus, his surroundings became clearer, the piercing white paint was coated throughout the room, the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling bore its mark, with the only exception being a blood red circle, with two little triangles on the top, plastered on a wooden door. The voices grew louder and louder, and soon came to a stop right before his room. Johnny, being an avid fan of horror movies, expected a slow, creaking sound permeating through the air, the kind of sound that would chill you to your bones, warning you of your impending doom. However, his imagination was sorely disappointed, as the door swung forward smoothly, with no sound whatsoever. Behind such door, stood two men, each weirder than the last. The first was wearing what looked to be a butler suit, with the accompanying white gloves and pencil moustache, his hair a vibrant pink. The second was sitting on some sort of mini-scooter, and was wearing a white robe, the end flawing out in black and white stripes. More importantly, he was wearing some sort of transparent bubble helmet, his sniveling face visible though a bit fuzzy. Snot was dripping down his nose, and he seemed like he had no inclination of blowing it. Hit hair was weird too, set in some sort of spike ending in a curl. All in all, it was weird, and left John really confused.

"Listen up scum" sneered the bubble-man "The names Celestial Charloss, but to you, its _Master_. I've done you human trash a favor and bought you for the misery you're worth. Understand? You. Belong. To. Me. You'll do as I say. You'll talk when I say. you'll look at who I say. You'll fight who I say. You'll _die_ when I say. Capiche?" That stated, he snorted his mucus back up into his nose, dismounted his mini scooter, kicking it on his way down. "Now, you've doubtless got some ideas to escape, you vermin always do, now, as the worthless idiot you are, I'm sure you haven't noticed the collar you've got"

Johnny, having just woken up from what he believed to be his sleep, actually hadn't seen it, and upon its mention, noticed the dead weight around his neck, looked down and saw, to his horror, a metal contraption wrapped around his neck, a quit constant whirring sounding from it.

"This is what you call a bomb collar, and lookie here at what it does" Said this, the bubble-man, Celestial Charloss, walked a bit away from his scooter, and pointed at it. His attention now fixed there, Johnny started noticing the little details he'd missed. For one, the head of the scooter had eyes. And a mouth, and a nose, and hair… f*ck. The scooter was a person. A living, breathing human looked back at Johnny, his eyes pleading mercy, his words mouthing sounds Johnny's bears just wouldn't capture, yet looking back, Johnny knew what he said. _"Help, please, I don't want to die"._ It seems Mister Charloss hadn't heard them either, or ignored them even, because with a small smile, he chuckled a bit, and pressed something with his hand. At first, nothing happened, and Johnny wondered what the big thing about these bomb collars was. And then, the person opposite to him blew up. It wasn't a pretty sight, and to spare our readers the gruesome details, I'll just omit the real nasty parts a bit. One second, the person was fine, tars sliding down his cheeks, eyes open in a silent plea. The next second, his head just wasn't there anymore, the white walls painted a deep red, some of which splattered onto John, his horrified face doing nothing from stopping what had once been a person scattering his brains throughout the room, throughout his clothes, his hair, his cheeks, his everything.

"That's what you get for being slow and making me late to my tea party with my dear sister you trash" Charloss jeered, kicking he dead man over and over, his smoking carcass shuddering with muscle spasms, each kick sending another one into motion. "You'll be my new vehicle." He turned to his butler "You, inject him, I've decided to keep it."

"Yes master" Quickly replied the butler, at which point he quickly took John's hand with his and injected a brown murky liquid from a syringe that appeared out of nowhere. Immediately, John's muscles relaxed, making him fall into shambles on the floor. Glancing back at John, a sneer creeped on Celestial Charloss's lips "Get on your knees and carry me to my room. _NOW."_

Dazed, Johnny struggled to oblige, trying to force his drugged muscles into position. He struggled hard for a while, yet finally managed, his knees touching the cold hard floor, clammy hands shuffling him next to Charloss' side, and before he actually got his mind wrapped around the new information, Charloss sat on him, clipped a chain onto his collar, and yanked it, the new weight on his back and the injected muscle relaxant made him stumble, earning himself a whip to his thighs from the butler.

"Your majesty follow me please, I shall lead to make sure your new purchase knows the way" The butler intoned, bowing, and then walking down the brightly lit path. Johnny was still for a moment, before he felt a cold hard nuzzle on the back of his head.

"Well, you heard it, follow him before I shoot" said Charloss.

F*ck. The hard cylinder was a gun. Johnny froze for a millisecond, before crawling his way after the butler, lagging behind for a bit before he remembered the corpse in the room, blown up for being late. His hands and knees accelerated, catching up to the walking butler.

"Hmm, this new toy of mine catches on pretty quickly" the voice above him spoke.

"Yes master, indeed he does" replied the butler, as he continued walking.

This continued on for a while, ach meter scratching Johnny's hands and knees, until finally, when the butler stopped in front of a couple of large double doors, his knees had started leaving little red spots whenever they touched the floor. It was then when Charloss stepped off from his back, waited for the butler to open the doors, and strode inside, ignoring John and the butler. The doors slammed shut after him, seemingly automatic.

The butler kneeled on the floor, took John's hand on his, and helped him up.

"I'm sorry kid, the name's Frank. Here, come with me." The butler, Frank, slung Johns arm over his shoulder, and dragged/helped him walk over to a small door on the opposite side of the double doors. He opened it, and another strange sight greeted John, one the thought was only available in movies, or drawings. It was the sight f a wide corridor with groups of people on either side, where each person was chained to the walls. Frank took him down the corridor and settled him beside a man wearing a weird red fish suit, complete with scales and fins and everything, and a beautiful little loli, both of whom were chained too. Carefully, Frank sat him down and fumbled with his chains, before a resounding "Clack" spread out loudly, the sound disturbing the deathly silence that had pervaded since their entrance. "Here you go. This is your new home. You've been knocked out since they found you, even before the auction. I'm sure you must be confused. These guys will fill you in with what has happened. Here, eat this, you must be super hungry. Now, I have to go." He quickly shoved a loaf of bread onto Johns hands and quickly walked away. At the door, Frank the butler hesitated, and looked back, a sad smile on his face. "I'm sorry man", he stated, his head bowed as he left the room, shutting the small door in his wake.

Silence once again creeped up on the chained people, and slowly but surely, John's daze dissipated.

"where…where am I?" John mumbled, and started struggling against his chains, pulling and pushing and moving every which way, trying to free himself, trying to regain his freedom.

"stop kid, that won't get you anywhere. These are sea stone chains. They aren't as weak as to be broken by someone like you" The Fish-suit man droned, his voice deep and tinged with sadness. "You're in Mariejois. Congrats kiddo, you can't be more than 20 years old, and you've already made it to the top of the world. My name's Fisher Tiger. And this little girl is Boa Hancock. You're a slave now. Those bastards enslaved you. My advice? Bid your time, they'll get what's coming to them. I'll give them what they deserve, I'll make sure of it."

And that was how john finally realized he truth, that he, just like in high school, had now once again become insignificant, just a blip in someone's life that would soon be forgotten. Yet this time, he could actually die. Of course, this wasn't his only realization. His second one was that Fisher tiger wasn't wearing a fish suit, that he was actually a fish, a so called fishman. But well, that wasn't his first priority, after all, he'd just become a slave.

"hahahaha real funny. Jokes up now, where are the cameras?" chuckled john, visibly nervous.

"It's not a joke you idiot. Those bastards own you know. just like they own us" a sweet voice chocked, the vice so heart breaking that it couldn't have been a lie. "Didn't you see? They killed Calico. Calico Jack is dead. He left with Frank and only you came back. Don't you understand? You're a slave, that monster will kill you if you don't make him happy. Hell kill you for no reason, and you'll be dead."

"WHAT? How can I become a slave, the police, where's the police, they'll stop them, no they can't kill me, that's illegal, I'm a taxpaying citizen, I follow the laws, they can't kill me, the police will come, Abraham Lincoln stopped slavery, get me out get me out get me out, help, no they can't do this, that man, he can't have died because he was late, it's a joke right? You're kidding, that man he can't have died no no no no no no no"

Needless to say, John did not take it too well. For the next few weeks, the only describable word was hell. Charloss humiliated him in every possible way, a sadistic grin ever present in his face. The one time john accidentally touched him, Charloss had him flogged so hard he had almost bled to death, saved solely by a hasty, cheap stitching from fisher tiger. Soon, scars littered his back, his scrawny frame turned even more so do to the lack of food. And that was how he live, in the physical representation of hell. His only solace was during the nights, when he, boa Hancock, and fisher tiger would huddle together, trying o remain warm. Soon they developed a close relationship, supporting each other under the rule of he despot hat was their master. Fisher Tiger was like the father John never had, and Boa Hancock a little sister.

In such a way, a year past, and John's mentality changed. First of all, he realized that he wasn't where he thought he was. He wasn't in some obscure place in Africa or the middle east where slavery might happen, no, he was in a place called the Red Line, a large plot of last that separated the Blues and the Grand Line. Basically, he was in a completely, foreign world. This was reinforced by the mere existence of fisher tiger, some sort of hybrid between a fish and a human, who turned out to be almost 10 feet in height, something not obvious at all when he was sitting down. Moreover, there were these things called "Devil Fruits", that would grant people powers in exchange for their swimming ability. This was discovered when Hancock came back one day, crying especially hard. Turns out she and her two sisters had been force fed some for the enjoyment of Charloss and some of his celestial friends during their weekly tea party. This proved to be the last straw for her, and she broke down crying all night.

Fisher tiger also changed. Each passing day he became more aloof and brutal, his teeth gritting audibly and his muscles clenching every day before hey slept, seemingly thinking about what they were subject too. Boa Hancock's devil fruit feeding also proved to be his last straw, as he looked John in the eye once she went o sleep and stated.

"Listen John. It's been a year already, and we are basically family now. So it's my duty to tell you. I can't support this anymore. I'm leaving. Don't worry though, I'll come back. I just need you to keep yourself and Hancock alive until then. I trust you. Don't let me down." And with that, Fisher somehow freed himself from his chains, opened the room, and left, leaving them to suffer alone.

7 days after that, John was called for what all slaves dreaded, the tea party. As he crawled along the floor, taking Celestial Charloss to the room, he hoped, he prayed, he pleaded to god that he'd only be treated as a chair, because if you were he entertainment, chances were, you'd die from some sick form of torture, all to humor the guests. He was sorely disappointed.

"This my dear friends" Grinned Charloss "Is a piece of human trash I've had for about a year now. I wanted a new slave to play with, but my father said I already had enough, so I was going to kill him today." Hearing this, johns body shuddered, his eyes turned teary, his mind articulating the same words he first slave he me had uttered a lifetime ago. "However," continued Charloss "Sengoku came by yesterday and mentioned that one can't eat 2 devil fruits, or they'll combust. And so there I was, thinking, hey, I've never seen anyone combust. So today, for your entertainment…. WE SHALL SEE IT HAPPEEEEN" the rest of the tea party broke out in applause, some of the world nobles already breaking out in smiles of anticipation.

"Here have we 2 devil fruits, each with unknown powers. And so, I thought, if the powers are cool, or fun or something, I might just eat him live, and if any of you like them and think of something fun to do with them, then you can keep this trash. If not, we'll make him eat the other devil fruit, and we can enjoy the show" Charloss waved his hand and Frank brought a tray over, within which there were two obscenely weird fruits. One was shaped like a pineapple, the leaves curled downward, and the supposed spikey sides curling upwards into loops, swirls dotting the rich red skin. The other was even weirder, looking like someone had smashed a banana and an apple together, a murky green color with the same swirls dotting the surface. John looked at them. It was u to one of these fruits that would decide his fate. Either more torture by the hands of his masters, or human combustion. None of them were very appealing choices, but the former was obviously much better than the latter. It meant he could live. And so, frank the butler set down the metal tray onto the floor, and Celestial Charloss ordered him to bite one, any of them. After all, he smirked, that way the fate of his life was in his own hands. John crawled forward, tears dirtying the pure white rug he was on, the spectators smiling, waiting. Frank looked at both. A weird pineapple, or something. He chose, and he took a bite. It tasted horrible, but he forced himself to swallow. It was a gamble, It was probably his last gamble too. His life, was now in gods hands.

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Anyways, here's chapter 1, Hopefully its well received. I tried to show the slavery, but its hard to get such atrocity onto paper. A least with my skill. if you guys don't like something, review, I'll read it, ill consider it, i migh change it. I'm open to sugestions, and i already have an idea f the devil fruit, which should be pretty easy to guess. Now you may be wondering why he would becom an admiral if he was in slvery, well, to know that, I uess you'll just have to continue rading. well, enjoy :)

Bond, John Bond, Signing out


	3. Chapter 2- The promise

Chapter 2- Redemption

Author here; to show the protagonists thoughts from persona A , I'm going to insert it like this;

- _ **thoughts**_ _ **thoughts**_ _ **thoughts**_ _-_

And from persona b, its going to be

- _thoughts thoughts thoughts_ -

You may be wondering what that's about but I'll make sense later on.

Anyways, here's chapter 2. Thanks for tuning in. enjoy.

Pain racked his body as he convulsed on the floor, his bones seemingly tuning into mush, his muscles spasming his forehead and back on fire, it seemed his skin had turned into fire ants, crawling all over his body. Foam sputtered from his mouth, dirtying he rug, and everyone backed off, seemingly horrified by his seizures.

"This is….. so cooool!" yelled someone, the voice somehow making its way into johns pain induced brain. The pain on his back flared again inciting another groan of pain on from him.

"look at that! He's growing wings! Its awesome!" The pains continued, each more piercing than the one before, until suddenly, without warning, they stopped. By then, John had blacked out, the foam drooling down his chin as he twitched occasionally. The celestial dragons looked on with curiosity, poking him for a bit to see if he was dead. Then, they outright kicked him, immediately waking him up from his sweet release. John shuddered, and felt a foreign weigh on his back, his shoulders somehow heavier than normal, a blurry haze of white greeting his sigh as he looked backwards. He heard footsteps, his brain sill wracked with pain, unable to fully think about stuff. Someone pulled his face up by his hair, pulling his roots, threatening to bald him if he didn't comply. As his eyes focused, what resulted was a view of he celestial dragon's eyes sparkling, each more eager than the last.

"I'll take him!" shouted a particularly obese one "I'll give you any of my slaves, any of your pick" he waved his hand, tugging at the leash tethered to the neck of a robust man, forcing him to his knees, a pained expression passing through his face.

"No, give him to me! I'll give you 2 of mine, you can pick the twins I have, wouldn't it be particularly fun to play with them?" smirked a woman

"No. Charloss, as your father I won't let you give away this slave. He looks to be a promising source of entertainment, we're keeping him. Take him to the entertainment room." Interjected Roswald, Charloss's father, and then looked at his burly slave by this side, motioning for him to comply.

The huge man obliged, tenderly picking up john's dazed form, taking care to not damage whatever was creating the new weight on johns back. From there, we walked towards a location John had never seen, and left him in a room, chaining his hands to the ropes dangling from the ceiling. The rest of the celestial dragons filtered into a podium above were john was, watching the spectacle from heir seas.

"I'm really sorry dude" mumbled the slave who took him there, and then clasped the iron bars shut, looking above to thee celestials seated in their chairs, acting all high and might.

"Begin" voiced Roswald.

From there, began johns most painful month of his existence. Every week the celestials would gather on the podium, laughing and jeering as he was tortured, physically, psychologically, anything. At first, it was physical, they'd pluck out his wings, and watch them grow back. They would break every bone in his body, and marveled as they shifted back into position. They'd drop burning oil onto his back, joking about making fried chicken wings. They'd chain his feet a meter off the floor, and then fill I with water, laughing as he tried to fly away from the rising 'sea level' only to futilely fall due t the weakening effects of the sea stone in the chains holding him. After a couple of weeks, it seemed they had become bored of torturing him in that way, because then, they started bringing in other slaves for them to play with. At first, to seemingly acclimatize them, it had started with mere beatings. "Beat him up", or "break his jaw". Those kinds of things. But then, dissatisfied with the results, they changed their ways. They made him commit unspeakable acts of violence, spanning across all the slave. One day, one of the celestial dragons brought in a kid, which they made him kill, another day, he had to kill the wife of another slave, or their parent, or their brother. Eventually, it got to the point were john lost his feelings. He no longer cried at night after murdering an innocent person, he no longer fought against the orders given to him. He no longer had the will to live. It got to the point, that when they took him to what they called the slave fighting ring, where the winner would be given freedom, he felt no anticipation, he didn't care if he won or if he died. To prepare for this, the celestials let him back into the small room with the other slaves for the first time in a month. After they chained him up and left, his head hung down and his eyes lifeless, the little loli he had almost forgotten looked at him, hope clear in her eyes.

"So you're Johns replacement." She breathed. "What's your name newbie? And what kind of devil fruit did you eat? To have wings and everything? Or are you one of hose people from the sky? Are you an angel? Did you come here to save us?" by this point, she was crying, tears botching the floor beneath her.

"I'm sorry Hancock. It's just plain old john" he replied, looking at her. Sure, he'd grown wings, but he couldn't have looked that different, couldn't he?

"pff, no way" she scoffed "you're tan and muscular. And you've got some kind of horns. And you have wings. Johns a normal human. Plus, he's dead. He's been gone for a month"

"they made me eat a devil fruit. And since then, they've been torturing me for fun. Tomorrow, I'm going to be killed in some sort of slave tournament. I managed to convince Frank to let me spend the night here. I've come to say goodbye." John responded, emotion finally entering his dead eyes. "Boa Hancock. You and Fisher Tiger have been the only ones that have kept me going all of this time. Now he and I may be gone, but the night before he left, he told me he would come back, and save all of us. Now I'm going to need you to remain strong until then. I need you to live. For the both of us. Can you do that?". The emotion that had fleeted through his eyes had now turned to tears streaming down his cheeks, yet that was nothing in comparison to his companion. Her eyes were waterfalls, creating a puddle around her. She lunged forward, hand outstretched, trying to grab him, to touch him, to make sure he hadn't already left, and that this wasn't some sort of sick joke. She didn't manage to get far before her chains yanked her, but John appreciated the intent. He too reached out, pushing against his chains, and when she did it too, they managed to hold hands. Their cuffs were digging into their skin, causing blood to slowly accumulate and drip ow, but they didn't seem to notice, or if they didn't, they didn't care, each taking this opportunity t hold each other one last time. And that's how they spent Johns last night in captivity, his end, either death or freedom, uncertain, their tears wetting the floor. And that's how frank found them the next day, hands still together, dried blood around the edges of their handcuffs. Gently, so as to not wake up Hancock, John took away his hand, and slowly left the room, sparing her one last glance before he banished his previous mindset, and resolved himself to live, so as to at least see her again. He glanced at the other slaves, and nodded a quick goodbye, then looked at frank, and walked towards his new destiny.

The ring was similar to the colosseum, except much smaller, seemingly only for the elite. The stands, instead f being shaped like stairs, were of a gentle incline, lush chairs and comfy looking sofas doting the area, were the celestials would be able to enjoy the massacre below. Near thee opposite end of the colosseum, 4 normal looking chairs were also placed, surprisingly close to the action. There, 4 large people were sited, each wearing a large white trench coat. They each seemed to follow a color scheme, one red, one blue, one yellow, and another white. The red man glowered at the men, women, and children in the ring, seemingly disgusted by them. The one in blue had a sleeping mask over his eyes, and was laid back completely, legs splayed out unceremoniously. The one in yellow was looking around, not focused on anything. Finally, the one in white was talking with his head bowed to Celestial Roswald, and seeing as how he Roswald allowed him to, the one in white must hold some significance.

John was shoved inside, next to a large fishman with green scales and a light hanging from his forehead, and behind a tall woman who was practically wrapped in chains. After that, he looked around, trying to asses who was the biggest threat. To his large surprise, he noticed he couldn't actually tell, as they all seemed so. F*cking. Scary. The only difference was an innocent looking little child, dwarfed by the adults surrounding her. A cough interrupted his thought process as the man in white stood up.

"To show our thanks to the world nobles for creating the world government, and to honor and cement their status, we're gathered here to celebrate the annual" he hesitated for a bit, and a flash of disgust sweeping through the man's face before he quickly put on his calm mask once again. "the slave tournament, where they fight to the death. Whoever wins will be freed, and his respective owner will receive the suitable compensation for it, as well as 1 additional slave he can choose from each of the other world nobles competitors. Now, before we begin, I would like to humbly"

"ENOUGH" Shouted a celestial. "This is boring me. These pieces of trash are only here to entertain us. They're worse than humans. They don't get to be talked to. Begin!" he commanded, and we were all shuffled out of the ring and onto the sides of the arena except for the young girl and a fishman with tentacles sprouting from his back. The man in white awkwardly sat back down, and the one in red stood up, scowling at the two slaves in the arena.

"You used to be pirate scum and now you're going to meet your deserved end. If it were up to me, none of you would live. But the honorable celestials found that without hope of freedom you pirate scum would give up like the pathetic coward you are. So be thankful to them. Us three admirals are here, and we'll protect the celestial dragons, so you can use all weapons. Devil fruit powers are allowed too. There's glass with sea stone surrounding the ring, so they won't reach your masters. But if you even think of attacking, you'll be the first to experience what its like to be melted, frozen, and blown up all at the same time. Choose your weapons and begin." He snarled, motioning towards a shelf that rose in the middle of the arena. Looking at it, john saw weapons he couldn't even imagine existed, from old style flintlocks, to cannons, to katanas and swords, staffs, knives, nun chucks, knuckle dusters, etc. hesitantly, the girl picked up a hammer twice her size, obviously struggling to bring it up. The fishman, meanwhile, picked up a bunch of swords dusters with his tentacles, and two knuckle dusters for his hands. After choosing, they looked up at the red man, who waved his hand impatiently, signaling them to begin.

The fishman looked the little girl up and down and steadied himself.

"I'm sorry girlie, but I need to be free. I've got friends I need to get back to" Stating this, he ran towards the girl, his hands raising into a boxing position. The little girl in turn, raised the large war hammer, her arms shaking with the effort. Seeing this, the fishman ran faster, intent on killing this foolish little girl, who probably thought that the heavier it was the more damage it would cause, all without considering if she could actually handle it. He ran next to her, raising his fist in the air as 2 of his extra limbs shot forwards, swords ready to pierce the girl like a kebab. As he looked at the girl, trying to see her reaction, all he saw was a small little smirk, and, at that point he knew, he'd fucked up. The previously shaking arms suddenly blurred, the flimsy war hammer turning into a weapon of mass destruction, shattering the fishman's torso, audible cracks spreading across the room. Blown away, the fishman stuck the side of the arena, forming a crater on the wall from the impact. He fell to his knees and looked at the girl with a look of pure horror and shock. "h-h-ho-h-how?" he stammered.

"I ate the Gram Gram fruit. It allows me to change the weight of anything to 1/100th of its original weight when its in my hands. However, for all of you losers. It still weighs the same. So say goodnight little fishman" he smirked, upon which she brought down the hammer head ono the mans skull, crushing it and dirtying the arena. The spectator's eyes, at least those of the celestial dragons, twinkled with amusement, and an obese man stood up and boasted to his companions, stating the championship would be his this year.

To decide the next contestants, another of the celestial dragons pointed lazily at two slaves in his line of sight, signaling that they would be he ones to fight. This wasn't the tournament they proclaimed it o be, there wasn't any brackets or order for the matches, it was all up the celestials' discretion. If they wanted two slaves to fight, they would decide. If they wanted to, they could make a free for all, or have one slave fight back to back, or have a two on one. Anything for their amusement. The two slaves he pointed to were john and the woman in chains. The two begrudgingly walked towards the ring. John approached the weapons rack and pondered what he should choose. A gun? Nah, he could hardly aim even when going to the bathroom in his past life. A sword? He'd probably end up tripping and stabbing himself. He chose a scythe, thinking it could serve for both short and medium quarter fights. Then, he looked at his opponent. The woman had removed the chains binding her, and was experimentally flexing her arms, rubbing them up and down to provide blood flow. She too walked up t the weapons and grabbed a couple of knives, as well as two daggers which she stuffed in the waistband of her pants. Then, she looked at the man in red, who once again waved his hand, signaling the start of the fight.

"I'm sorry handsome" the woman smirked "but would you please die for me?" and then, john almost did. Out of nowhere her arms extended past what was humanly possible, bending in two different ways, her knives stabbing john in the chest, blood gushing out, dying the floor with a dark tinge of red. However, to the woman's horror, john practically didn't even flinch. Compared to the pain he'd suffered in the hands of the celestials, this was nothing. Instead, john started to think, to think hard about how he should fight. Sure, he had his devil fruit for a while now, but he had never fought anyone before. He needed to win against the woman, he needed to kill her.

Once this thought entered his brain, he once again felt the pain he'd suffered with when eating the devil fruit, only this time it was more subdued, seemingly restrained or weakened. The effects were the same though, prickling in the skin, some sort of pain in the forehead. His wings hadn't changed though, at least no change he could see. The woman slowly backed off, looking horrified. A seemingly vast energy flooded his muscles, and when john looked down to see, he was surprised to see that his skin had turned blood red, and he had become absolutely shredded. Muscles he didn't even know existed has been outlined all over his body, perfect abs, perfect pecs, etc. Moreover, his hands had turned into slaws, the nails a pitch black. Guess this is his fight point. The previously large scythe now seemed to fit him perfectly, the long blade slightly above him.

"Well, guess I should start then." He muttered. Immediately the woman scrambled back, scared. John wondered why, until he thought back to what he had spoken. His voice was deep, grinding, basically outright scary. It sounded like Morgan Feeman (I think we all know who I'm alluding to here) had died, gone to hell and been tortured for eons, only to crawled drink a bucket of lava with nails, and then bellow a bunch of curses at the world. It was a voice filled with fear, pain, terror, hatred, it was he voice of the devil.

He turned towards his opponent, who was now pleading towards him, tears streaming down her face. He then looked towards the other slaves, various expressions of shock, horror, fear, some even eagerness doting their faces. He turned to the celestials, each looking incredibly happy, one was cheering, and Roswald was effectively beaming, seemingly happy for his slave to turn out o be so horrifying. He turned to the men in white trench coats, they were looking at him with curiosity, no fear in their faces. The one who was sleeping had even lifted his mask, one eye peering at him. He turned back to his opponent, anger rising from his chest. Anger at being looked at, anger a being forced o do his, ager at being so weak that he had to comply, anger at the world.

"I'll kill you" Joh growled, anger fueling his hared towards this world. A puddle started forming from bellow her legs. She had pissed herself. - _W_ _ **ha**_ _t a we_ _ **aklin**_ _g. Can't handle the pressure. Wh_ _ **at is she**_ _e_ _ **ven**_ _doing h_ _ **e**_ _re? of c_ _ **ou**_ _rse she's_ _ **going t**_ _o_ _ **get killed. She's**_ _weak_ _ **. Its so easy**_ _ **to kill he**_ _r. I need to_ _ **kill her. I can't back off. Kill. I need to do it. Kill. Kill. kiLL. KIll. KILL. KILL. I HAVE TO KILL HER**_ _-_ red tinged john's vision, his scythe blurring into motion, disappearing before re appearing halfway down her torso, cutting from her right shoulder towards her left hip A surge of blood exploded _._ _ **-this isn't enough, she might still live. More. I need more. Kill. More. MORE. I HAVE BEEN ASLEEP TOO LONG. MORE. I NEED MORE-**_ screamed a voice in john's mind, and he directly dropped his weapon, instead opting to grab her arms and pulling in opposite directions, pulling her apart. Blood showered onto him, dousing his anger, his tongue licking over lips stretched into a maniacal grin he didn't even know he had on. The voice in his head stopped shouting, satisfied by the bloodshed, and he once again felt his skin prick and his forehead burn. Weakened, john fell to his knees, staring at the hands that had acted on their own, ripping apart the poor slave to shreds. They were once again back to being tan. The claws had retracted into normal nails. His vision clouded, remembering horrified at what he had done. Sure, john had killed people before, but he had never enjoyed it like that, he had never actively caused more damage than necessary. Now, he had ripped a person in half with his bare hands. What was that voice he had heard? That horrible voice that somehow made him do it? That voice that sounded so wrong, yet also, so right?

"AWESOOOMMEEEE" a shout interrupted his thought process, and he looked up, only to see all to the celestial dragons on their feet, actually applauding him for the show he had put on. Roswald was surrounded by other men and women in bubble suits, a huge grin on his face.

"As expected from my slave. Now leave the ring you mutt. Your time to shine is over. Move." He commanded, and john shuffled back to the slave crowd, the others giving him a wide berth, scared of the ferociousness he had shown. The little girl however, came up to him, and looked him up and down

"that's some mean strength you've got there bud. I'm sure you'll win this. My trick's all gone now. People won't under estimate me anymore. I'll probably die soon. If no in my next round, then the one after that. Hell, you might kill me. But I know I'll die here today. Anyways, I just came here to tell you something, because if what you showed just now is how you fight normally, then I can expect you to win. What I want to say is that, well, I want to hurt them. The celestials. I want them o hurt so bad. Just like they made my mom was hurting. Just like dad, like me, like I'm sure you are. So, when you win, please. Make them hurt. Please."

She had tears in her eyes as she looked at him, her hands clutched across her chest in a praying motion, the image of Hancock overlapping hers as she talked.

After that, the fights continued, man vs man, fishman vs men. There was a point where they were all shuffled towards another room, this one much much larger, and they had 4 of the slaves fight against a giant. John and the little girl were picked by a woman for this, and he became the main attacker, once again falling into his devil transformation, the voice in his head murmuring words into his ear, egging him on. He flew to the giant's head, avoiding the massive hand that was trying to swat him like a fly. With his claws, he ended up ripping the giant's eyes to shreds, blinding him on the right side. This proved to be his downfall, as the little girl smashed her huge hammer against his right ankle, causing him to fall onto on the third slave, crushing him, but allowing john and the little girl, and the fourth slave to easily snuff the life out of him. The fourth slave, during the actual match, had mostly just scratched the skin of the giant, not really contributing to the fight at all, which caused the celestials displeasure. Now, I'm sure you know, but in the world of One Piece, if you're a slave, the las thing you want is an angry celestial. After the fight, he was told that this kind of inaction would only be tolerated once, and that he would be allowed to fight on as long as it never happened again. Relief flooded his face, only to turn into horror when he heard a click from his bomb collar. He clawed at it, desperate to take it off, but it blew up, killing him in the process. The celestials seemed happy about it, some mocking the change in his expressions when he heard the click, laughing at how funny it was to them.

The little girl was killed soon after that, impaled in the throat by a knife thrown from man with double jointed arms. As she lay there, blood pouring out of her throat, she looked at john, mouthing the last words she'd ever speak. _"make them hurt."_

The men wearing the white trench coats had remained relatively passive throughout the entire ordeal, where only the man in white had sort of pained expression with every death. The little girls affecting him particularly strongly, as he clutched the arrests of his chair, turning them into dust. Of the other three, the one in blue hadn't seen it at all, he'd been sleeping. The one in yellow looked a bit disgusted, but not particularly, effected, while the man in red had a slight smirk on his face, happy that the girl had gotten her 'deserved end'.

The fights continued unabated after that. The brownish dirt ring had turned red now, the floor slippery with all of the bloods, tears, and slimy guts plastered along the ground. The sand itself had changed color, tainted by the deaths that occurred above it, many of which were caused by john. The Celestials seemed t particularly enjoy watching his gruesome displays, and every time john came out of his hate filled trance, he'd look up to see roswald beaming at him, talking about money well spent. When the final death came along, a woman dual wielding a pair of katanas, john kneeled on the floor and cried. He cried his heart out. You see, he was finally free. After almost two years of nonstop torture, humiliation, and pain, he'd suffer this no more. The celestials filtered out of the stands, roswald leaving him in the ring, going back to his mansion. Then, the seas tone glass opened up, and the four men in trench coats walked in front of john, the three wearing colors slightly behind the one in white.

"Congratulations. You've won. What's your name young man?" he asked, not offering any helping hand for john to stand up with.

"Its John sir, John Starr." Replied john, tears streaming down his eyes

"Well John Starr. My name's Sengoku. We've asked around and you're no pirate. You were found floating around the archipelago and sold to the celestials. Who are you?"

"I used to be a waiter. But now I think I may be a monster." John continued.

"Listen up kid, I know you've gone through a horrifying experience. But we need monsters like you to help the other civilians. O stop even worse monsters from killing them. We owe the celestials a lot for creating he government, a government that protects the people. And I know that you probably hate the government for making you suffer as a slave but"

"I'll join. I'll join the marines." John interrupted, shocking all four of the men present.

The one in white stammered for a bit, before pointing at the one in blue. "O-O-Ok then. You'll be under Aokiji here. He'll teach you how to cool your jets once you get going. Since you're already decently strong, you'll start as a captain, but you'll have to work your way up from that. Tsuru can remove the tattoo on your back, she'll wash the ink right off."

John looked at the one in blue, before staring back to the one in white. A simple 'ok' was all that he responded with.

Yes, he'd join the marines. He'd arrest pirates and stop massacres from happening. But more importantly, he would one day rise amongst the ranks, and stand were those four before him stood. He'd looks down once again on this very ring, surrounded by the celestials, and he, in front of everyone, he'd look up to them and make eye contact, something even these four couldn't do. And He would make them hurt.

* * *

Tadaaa, chapter 2 is here. This is the longest thing i've ever had to write so it took me a while, sorry if you guys were expecting something soon. Anyways, i hope its to your liking. Also, if this is toomuch violence and stuff for the t rating, comment it and i'll change it.

Bond, John Bond, signing off


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